


i really really really really really really like you

by joshllyman



Category: Haikyuu!!, ダイヤのA | Daiya no A | Ace of Diamond
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Sugawara Koushi, Other, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:42:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 13,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24401500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joshllyman/pseuds/joshllyman
Summary: A series of prompt fills featuring various relationships for a writing challenge on the HQ Writers discord. Every chapter 1k or under. See chapter notes for warnings and ratings.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Kuroo Tetsurou, Azumane Asahi & Yachi Hitoka, Azumane Asahi/Bokuto Koutarou, Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu/Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Azumane Asahi/Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Azumane Asahi/Sugawara Koushi, Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Koutarou/Sawamura Daichi, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio/Kozume Kenma, Hinata Shouyou/Oikawa Tooru, Kageyama Tobio/Kindaichi Yuutarou, Kageyama Tobio/Kozume Kenma, Kageyama Tobio/Sugawara Koushi, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun
Comments: 72
Kudos: 128





	1. 26: "It was you the whole time" Bokuto/Daichi, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto/Daichi with a side of Asahi/Suga; I have ignored canon and substitute my own reality, G rated  
> (Suga is nb this chapter)

Daichi has a mystery package waiting for him on his porch. Again.

“Oh, hell yeah!” Suga exclaims, hopping up the steps to Daichi’s house two at a time and grabbing the package before Daichi can say anything. “I call any American Kit-Kats in here.”

“No fair,” Asahi says. “You called them last time.”

“Are you gonna fight me for them?” Suga asks as Daichi and Asahi reach the top step. Suga stands on their tiptoes and peers into Asahi’s face.

Asahi sighs. “No.” 

“You’ll taste them, anyway,” Suga says with a wink. Asahi blushes; Daichi grimaces.

“You’re at my house,” Daichi reminds them. They step inside and remove their shoes. “My house, my package, my eyes burning every time you two exhibit your lovely newfound relationship all over my bedroom.”

“It’s love, Daichi,” Suga says solemnly. “Your young heart wouldn’t understand.”

Daichi shakes his head as Suga steals up the stairs to his bedroom. The package is already open, candies spilled all over his bedspread by the time he reaches his door.

“Another letter,” Suga says, holding it up. “Should I read it aloud?”

Daichi crosses the room swiftly and snatches it from Suga’s hand. “Take your Kit-Kats and shut up.”

Asahi and Suga pick over the contents of the package while Daichi goes to his desk. He catches them nose-to-nose out of the corner of his eyes and figures they’ll be preoccupied enough for him to read his letter in peace.

_ Daichi, _

_ You’re almost graduated! I watched you at Nationals. You were incredible, really. You brought your team through hell and you should be proud of them, and of yourself. I’m proud of you. _

_ I hope we’ll see each other again soon. Maybe then I’ll finally come clean. Even though being your mystery friend has been kind of fun! Enjoy your candies :D _

Daichi smiles to himself and opens up the top drawer of his desk, where seven other letters live, each one in the same messy handwriting as the one in his hand. It’s been going on nearly a year now, this “secret friend” thing. He assumes it’s someone he knows through volleyball, but the only confirmation he has is that it’s not Kuroo, since it was Kuroo who’d texted him to ask for his address in the first place. He assumes they’re close.

A chocolate bar collides with the side of his head, and he glances in Suga’s direction.

“Hey, loverboy,” Suga says. “Do you want the matcha-flavored stuff or not?”

“I’ll split it with Asahi,” Daichi answers, distracted. 

Whoever his friend is, they’ve sent enough candy to last Daichi, Suga, and Asahi through graduation. He’ll probably end up packing the remnants into his backpack for his trip to Tokyo.

Tokyo, where there’s a good chance his “friend” lives. In his letter, he expressed the desire to see Daichi again. Maybe that’s a hint? Maybe he’s already got something planned?

“Are we doing homework or not?” Asahi asks, flustered, and when Daichi looks up again he’s got Suga mostly in his lap and chocolate smeared across his lips.

“You guys are gross,” Daichi says with no animosity. He places the letter in the drawer on top of the others and goes to clean up his bed so they have a place to study.

\---

He rereads the letter again that night, and the next night, and the night after that. He reads it every night up until graduation, and every night preceding his move to Tokyo. The night before he moves, he goes through and reads each letter one by one, combing through them for some sort of hint as to the identity of the sender. He doesn’t find anything at all, and it’s far past when he should have gone to bed when he finally calls it a night and gives up.

He mostly manages to put it out of his mind the next day, preoccupied as he is with moving. He is, in fact, working on the last candy bar from the box on the train trip there, and Suga makes him split it. They’re both nervous, Suga perhaps doubly so since they’re leaving behind a brand new relationship and trying to make it work long distance. It’s not until he’s bringing the first box up the three flights of stairs to the apartment he’ll be sharing with Kuroo and Suga and runs headfirst into Bokuto Koutarou that he gives the letters any more thought.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto says. He takes the box out of Daichi’s hands before Daichi can protest, and Daichi follows him into the apartment, feeling just a little breathless. “Good to see you again!”

“Congratulations on your win at Nationals,” Daichi says. “You were really incredible.”

Bokuto sets the box down on the table and turns to Daichi with a blush. “Thanks. That means a lot. Would have been better if we could have beat you guys, though.”

“Aw, yeah,” Daichi says. “I take it you’re going pro.”

“Yep!” Bokuto beams. Then his face twists, a little smile falling into place. “Oh, uh. You’ve got some…” He reaches up and wipes the edge of Daichi’s mouth, and Daichi finds himself reddening furiously.

“Thanks,” Daichi murmurs. “Last one for a while. Friend of mine sends them and I don’t know if he’s got the new address.”

“Oh, don’t worry!” Bokuto answers. “I got it from Kuroo!”

Daichi stares at Bokuto, who, after a moment, loses the smile from his face. Daichi’s jaw drops about the same time Bokuto’s does.

“It was you the whole time,” Daichi manages.

Bokuto blinks. “Um. I’m—really sorry, if they weren’t wanted, I can stop—”

“Don’t,” Daichi says, and then they’re staring at each other and Daichi can’t stop the red from spreading all over his face. “Just. Maybe we could—go buy the candy together? Or get dinner?”

The smile slowly spreads back across Bokuto’s face, and Daichi feels it like a punch to the gut. A good punch. 

“I’d really like that,” Bokuto answers. 


	2. 19. "I've missed this." Oikawa/Hinata, T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa/Hinata with a side of Bokuto/Akaashi. Manga spoilers. T rated.

On a Tuesday afternoon in September, there’s a tsunami warning.

Hinata Shouyou goes about volleyball practice as usual. The Black Jackals have a game coming up the following weekend, and Shouyou hopes to start in it. On his infrequent breaks, he casts an eye to the skies outside, where the clouds are dark and rumble with thunder. Bokuto catches him once, late in the afternoon, and throws an arm around him. 

“Don’t worry about the storm!” he says. He’s sweaty and smiling brightly. “‘Kaashi said it’s not actually going to hit us here, it’ll veer off the coast before then.”

“Are you going to see him this weekend?” Shouyou asks, pretending it’s eased his concern.

“Yep!” Bokuto takes his arm off Shouyou just in time to catch a stray volleyball that’s careening toward the two of them. “He’s got a whole weekend planned out just for us! Even I could tell he seemed excited, and he never seems excited, so I’m extra excited!”

“That’s great,” Shouyou says. He offers a smile that he hopes matches Bokuto’s enthusiasm. If it doesn’t, he doesn’t think Bokuto notices. Bokuto squirts some water into his mouth and returns to the court. Shouyou follows him, albeit more slowly, and tries to ignore the growing nervousness in his stomach.

\---

The clock on Shouyou’s phone reads 7:13, and the thunder outside is somehow louder than the noise of the rain pelting the roof of his apartment. Three previous texts have gone unanswered, and he’s on the verge of sending a fourth when he deviates and sends one to Bokuto instead.

>>akaashi-san still thinks it won’t hit us?

Bokuto’s answer comes through almost immediately.

<<nah! worst of it will be south of here!

Shouyou sets the phone aside and returns to watching the door. 

The worst part of the waiting, of the watching, is that he isn’t certain exactly what he’s waiting for. He knows who will be walking through his door, but he doesn’t know what to expect. It’s been a few years since they’ve seen each other in person, and they’d always said there were no obligations, no strings, no hidden motives. At the time, though, they’d both been nomads of sorts, migrants who met for a week halfway across the world. Now they’ll be living in the same country, the same city, for the foreseeable future. Is it possible he’ll want the same things that haunt Shouyou’s dreams now?

Caught up in his reverie, Shouyou finds himself jumping when there’s a series of impatient knocks at the door. He flies across the living room and undoes the latch with shaking hands.

It swings open to reveal Oikawa Tooru, soaked to the bone and shivering beneath the flickering overhang lights.

“Hey,” he greets, slightly breathless. He holds up his phone. “Battery died.”

Shouyou rushes forward and throws his arms around Tooru, whose laughter fills Shouyou’s ears. Shouyou forgets all his hesitation, all his doubt, and peppers every part of Tooru’s face that he can reach with kisses. Tooru stops him with a hand on his neck. His eyes are fierce, intense in the way that sends thrills down Shouyou’s spine.

“You still want this?” he asks. “After all this time?”

Shouyou lifts his chin and locks eyes with Tooru. “I haven’t waited this long to back down now.”

A flash of lightning splits the sky and illuminates Tooru from behind.

“Shouyou…” he murmurs.

“Do you want this, too?” Shouyou asks. “Do you want me?”

Tooru’s eyes flicker down to Shouyou’s lips as he answers. “Yes.”

When Shouyou pulls him down, their lips crash together for a kiss that’s years in the making. Tooru claws at Shouyou’s shirt, clutching at the fabric to pull him closer, and Shouyou jumps up and wraps his legs around Tooru’s waist. From this angle, it’s easier to lick his way past Tooru’s lips, to press his tongue inside Tooru’s mouth. 

A crash of thunder shocks them both, and Tooru just keeps his hold on Shouyou’s thighs. 

“Inside,” Tooru murmurs against Shouyou’s lips. Shouyou kicks the door closed behind them as Tooru carries him into the bedroom. He throws Shouyou down on the bed and follows after, seeking Shouyou’s mouth like a parched man seeks water.

Shouyou lifts the hem of Tooru’s shirt with a grin. “You’re soaked, Tooru,” he says. “Let’s get these clothes off.”

\---

“I missed this.”

Shouyou is curled into Tooru’s side; Tooru is tracing the lines of the muscles in his bicep. He looks up at Shouyou’s words and smiles, still hazy and a little debauched.

“I missed this, too,” he says. “Gods, I missed you.”

Shouyou leans down and slots their mouths together again. Kissing Tooru is the only way he’s ever gotten the rush off the court that he gets from slamming down a volleyball, or receiving a particularly difficult serve, or coming back from behind. It’s what he’s been chasing the last few years that they’ve been apart. He thinks, now, he won’t have to chase it anymore.

“Tooru…” Shouyou runs a hand through his hair, still wet to the touch and lacking any style. “Stay here.”

“I’m not going anywhere in this storm,” Tooru says, an easy smile on his face.

Shouyou frowns. “I meant...stay here. Live here. Don’t go.”

Tooru takes a deep breath and cups the side of Shouyou’s face. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been so certain of anything,” Shouyou answers.

Tooru’s eyes light up, and Shouyou is reminded of the sunrises they shared in Brazil, the sun slowly creeping into the sky and bringing the heat of the day. Tooru nods.

“Then I’ll stay.”


	3. 8. "I've been waiting a long time" Kageyama/Sugawara, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama/Sugawara. No warnings. Rated G.

In the stands for the volleyball finals at the 2020 Olympics sits a silver-haired man in an orange and black sweatshirt. There’s a large number 2 on the back, a name across the top. His eyes are trained on the players below: Japan’s national team across from the United States. In the fifth set, Japan is down by 3 points.

The Japanese setter lifts the ball into the air on the far side of the court, where the outside hitter slams it down on the opposite side of the net. It’s received, set, slapped back down on the Japanese side of the court, where the libero pulls off a spectacular save to keep them alive. This goes back and forth several more times before Japan finally scores, narrowing the deficit to two.

The Japanese setter looks up into the crowd, his eyes narrowing. The entire stadium is alight with noise, screaming his name or the names of the other players on the court. He catches the glance of the man in the sweatshirt, and slowly, Sugawara Koushi raises a hand in greeting.

On the court, Kageyama Tobio smiles at him.

Suga would like to say, as the game continues, that he’s paying equal attention to both the Karasuno alumni on the court, but that would be a lie. Hinata is incredible, as he’s always been, his talent honed by years abroad and playing among the top players in Japan. But Suga’s eyes are always drawn back to Kageyama, to Tobio, to the man whose name he wears on his back. 

\---

_ (“I’m stealing this,” Suga says, laying on Tobio’s bed and clad in Tobio’s Karasuno sweatshirt as the latter packs his bags.  _

_ “You’ve been in it non-stop all winter anyway,” Tobio observes. His brows are furrowed where he looks down at the clothes he’s trying to jam into his suitcase. “You might as well just have it.” _

_ “Does it bother you?” Suga asks. _

_ “No.” _

_ Suga sighs as he stands. He crosses the room and wraps his arms around his boyfriend, who relaxes into his hold. “Tobio?” _

_ “Hm?” _

_ “Are you sure it doesn’t bother you?” _

_ Tobio shakes his head and turns around so Suga’s face is against his chest. Suga takes a finger and lifts Tobio’s chin so they’re looking into each other’s eyes.  _

_ “I like when you wear it,” Tobio admits. There’s a faint blush over his face; he’s still not quite used to openly talking about his feelings. Suga’s working on that. “It looks...cute.” _

_ The smile grows slowly over Suga’s face until it’s splitting his cheeks, and with it grows the blush on Tobio’s cheeks. “You think I’m cute!” _

_ “I always have,” Tobio admits, and Suga squeals and tugs his boyfriend closer to himself. _

_ After stealing a few kisses, Tobio goes back to packing and Suga goes back to the bed, wrapping his arms around his knees and watching as his boyfriend fumbles with folding a pair of pants. _

_ “Just wait a few years till your name’s on official Japanese Olympic gear,” Suga says quietly, mostly to himself. “I’ll look much cuter in that.”) _

\---

Japan fights their way back and is ahead by only two at match point. And it would be fate, wouldn’t it, for Tobio to set the last point to Hinata, for their freak quick to work flawlessly on the ultimate stage? 

They win the gold.

Suga rushes forward before he quite knows what he’s doing, down to the front row. The team is screaming and crying; the crowd roars louder than ever. Hinata jumps into Tobio’s arms, and Tobio hugs him, and then each of his team members in turn, his coaches, his trainers, and then he finds Suga’s gaze across the room. 

Suga’s in his arms before he quite knows what’s happening. When they kiss, he’s not sure which tears are his own and which are Tobio’s. Someone brings a jacket over to Tobio and drapes it around his shoulders. 

“Koushi,” Tobio shouts. He takes the jacket off and wraps it around Suga. 

“Told you you’d look good in Olympic gear,” Suga answers, and he can’t stop the maniacal grin on his face, the tears that flow ceaselessly from his eyes. 

“Look in the pocket!”

Suga looks at Tobio, who’s smiling perhaps wider than Suga’s ever seen him smile, and he knows what he’ll find before his fingers ever touch the box hidden in.

“Yes,” Suga says. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Kageyama Tobio, and I’m stealing your name, too.”

“Does that mean I get to keep this one?” Tobio asks. 

“Not a chance.” He pulls the box out of the pocket, and the ring out of the box, and he slips that onto his finger and wraps his arms around Tobio’s neck. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this particular jacket. I think I’ll keep it a while.”

“As long as you keep me, too.”

“You can’t get rid of me now,” Suga says, and he can feel Tobio’s smile as they press their lips together.


	4. 17. "Love is overrated" Kindaichi/Kageyama, T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kindaichi/Kageyama with a few guest appearances. Some family angst. T rated.

It’s the tattoo he gets the day he turns eighteen, dark black lines harsh against the skin of his forearm. It’s the undercut and the piercings done by Kyoutani in the basement of his mother’s house when no one’s home to stop him. It’s the angry set of his jaw that persists long past his father leaving, long past his mother’s here again, gone again boyfriends, long past the days he’d stayed with his grandparents when his mother couldn’t handle him anymore, long past the days where she’d waltzed back into his life like nothing had ever happened and his grandparents had been more than happy to turn him right back over to her.

Kindaichi Yuutarou has never loved anyone, and no one has ever loved him, and he’s just fine that way.

\---

It’s the spring of his sophomore year of university and he sports four more tattoos and there are holes in his ears, his tongue, his eyebrow, his lip. He’s downtown for a concert and not paying attention as he walks through the city when he runs headfirst into a reminder of the past.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, before he looks up and sees the man standing in front of him.

Kageyama Tobio is not the same boy he used to be.

“Kindaichi,” Kageyama says. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

They stand there, awkward and shuffling, until Kageyama speaks again.

“Do you...wanna get lunch? We could catch up.”

Kindaichi shrugs. “I’ve got time, I guess.”

Kageyama still plays volleyball, because Kindaichi doesn’t think he could exist without the sport, but where he used to be withdrawn and angry, intentionally lonely, he now smiles on occasion and listens, asking follow-up questions like a real boy. Kindaichi supposes Hinata must have drawn that out of him.

At the end of lunch, Kageyama looks up at him with something like shyness in his face. 

“We should do this again.”

Kindaichi shrugs. “Yeah, okay.”

Friendship doesn’t come easily to people like Kageyama, and Kindaichi figures it’ll all be over within a week or two. Despite Kindaichi’s best efforts to shake him off, however, Kageyama persists in his pursuit of mending the broken relationship they had in middle school. Kageyama buys him coffee, and takes him out to dinner, and asks him to go see movies, and Kindaichi can’t begin to understand any of this: when they’re hanging out on Kageyama’s couch, streaming a new season of anime, and Kageyama falls asleep with his head against Kindaichi’s shoulder, or when he catches Kageyama staring at him, or why Kageyama turns away with a blush spreading over his cheeks.

It comes to a head when they’re on their way to dinner and Kageyama’s hand brushes against his. Kindaichi adjusts. It happens again, and then Kageyama’s taking his hand and—

“Why are you doing this?” Kindaichi bursts out, stopping in the middle of the street. “What do you want from me?”

There’s a flash of surprise in Kageyama’s bright blue eyes. “I don’t want anything from you.”

Kindaichi huffs, his tongue piercing clacking against his teeth. “Bullshit, Kageyama. Everything’s got a price. Name yours.”

Kageyama swallows, and the surprise in his features slowly gives way to hurt. “Kindaichi...Yuutarou…I l—”

“Don’t say it,” Kindaichi interrupts. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Kageyama’s frown is almost comical, and Kindaichi would laugh if he could breathe. “Why not?”

“Love is overrated.” It’s the same line he’s used as a weapon since he was old enough to know that his father left him for another family, to know his mother was crying her eyes out over a man who didn’t care about her at all. “I can’t do this. I’m going home.”

\---

He misses seventeen calls from Kunimi and another ten from Hinata before there’s knocking at his door. It’s two in the morning; he has every intention of ignoring it until the voice behind it threatens “I’m going to go get your landlord and tell them you’re dead in here to make them chop this door down, asshole!”

Kindaichi grumbles all the way over to find a weird company outside. It was Goshiki’s voice yelling, so that’s not a surprise, but flanking him are Kunimi and Koganegawa, both frowning deeply, and behind him is Kageyama, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

“I didn’t ask for this,” Kageyama says.

It takes all three of the others to push Kageyama past Kindaichi’s doorstep, which explains the crowd. “Figure your shit out!” Goshiki calls as they slam the door.

Kageyama stares at the floor. Kindaichi stares at Kageyama.

“What did you tell them?” he demands.

Kageyama’s brows furrow as he looks up. “The truth. I do love you, or at least like you, and I don’t expect you to do anything if it’s not what you want but you can’t live like this forever.”

“I can and I will.”

“Stop being such a stubborn ass and think about how you actually feel!”

“I actually feel fucking tired since you insisted on waking me up—”

“I told you I didn’t ask them to do that—”

“And I’ve been confused as hell because you’ve been really fucking nice to me, and for what? I treated you like shit—”

“I treated you like shit, too, I was trying to apologize at first—”

“And then you kept being nice even though I wasn’t, and you blushed when you looked at me, what the hell was I supposed to do with that—”

“But I stayed because you’re funny and nice and sweet when you’re not trying to be such an asshole—”

“And maybe I do like you, but so fucking what, what does it even matter?”

Kageyama takes a deep breath. “Would it be the worst thing to let yourself be in love for a little while?”

Kindaichi frowns. “I don’t know.”

Kageyama inches into his space, bit by bit, until he’s nose to nose with Kindaichi. “Then just try it.”

Kageyama’s lips are soft; he tastes like blueberries in summer.

Kindaichi exhales. “Okay.”


	5. 41. "I feel like I can't breathe" Asahi/Daichi/Suga, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asahi/Daichi/Suga, no warnings, G rated  
> Suga is nb this chapter

<< _ I miss you. _

Three simple words into a group message, but Asahi feels like he can breathe again once he’s finally sent them. The feeling’s been weighing more and more heavily on him over the past weeks. He’s avoided saying it; the last thing he wants is for his partners to feel guilty that they’re in Tokyo together and he’s stuck in Miyagi. But it’s out in the open, now, and the burden of carrying it without telling them is finally gone.

He reasons it should be easy enough to wait it out, now that he’s said something. They have a break coming up in just a few weeks and they’ve already planned their visit home, and at the New Year Asahi is going to go see them in Tokyo. It’s just this year that he has to save up before he can join them. It sucks. He’s lonely, and their absence at his side is an ache he feels constantly. But it’s not that much longer until they’ll see each other again.

>> _ We miss you, too <3 _

The text from Daichi is accompanied by a video from Suga of the two of them blowing kisses at the camera and smiling. He falls back onto his bed and holds his phone to his chest, and for a moment he can pretend they’re there with him.

\---

It’s his first weekend off in what feels like months, and he intends to spend it sleeping in. He reassured his parents he didn’t have any shifts this weekend. He’d made sure to draw his curtains tightly closed the night before so that absolutely no sunlight can peek in. His headphones are still playing the calming music he sometimes uses to help fall asleep. 

Why is there insistent knocking at his bedroom door?

“‘M sleeping in, mom,” he calls drowsily, but the knocking only increases in fervor and volume. He drags himself out of bed and pokes his nose out the door.

“What is it— _ oof! _ ”

“ASAHI!” Suga shouts, tackling him to the floor.

“Koushi?” Asahi questions. 

The door closes just before another body falls on top of both of them. “Good morning, Asahi.”

“Daichi? What are you doing here?”

“Hanging out with you!” Suga answers. They pop their head up from his stomach. “We took the first train down here this morning!”

“Koushi’s had too much caffeine,” Daichi says from somewhere around Asahi’s legs. “We knew you had the weekend off.”

“Aren’t you missing classes today?”

“It’s just one day,” Suga reasons. “And we have a very cute boyfriend who we missed very much.”

Asahi feels like he might cry. “I can’t believe you’d do that for me.”

“It’s almost like we love you or something,” Daichi says, deadpan. 

Suga pulls themself partially out from under Daichi so they’re closer to Asahi’s face. They hold Asahi’s cheek gently, smiling. “Daichi’s grumpy, but we both missed you, too. You haven’t said it for so long—”

“I didn’t want you to feel guilty!”

“So we knew that you saying it must mean you felt really bad.” They lean down and press a kiss to Asahi’s lips. “Clearly the only solution was to come see you for ourselves.”

Tears really do begin to leak out of Asahi’s eyes now, and Suga giggles as they wipe them away. 

“It’s too early for this much emotion,” Daichi says.

“And I feel like I can’t breathe,” Asahi adds. “We should go back to bed.”

“Futons in the same place as usual?” Suga asks.

“Top of the closet,” Asahi affirms.

Suga squirms out from between him and Daichi and goes to grab them, and Daichi rolls over off Asahi’s legs. 

“I missed you, too,” Daichi says, and Asahi can see more clearly now the bags under his eyes. He reaches out, and Daichi crawls into his arms and lays against his chest. 

“How’re classes?” Asahi murmurs.

Daichi shrugs. “Fine. Just a lot, you know.”

“Mmhmm.”

Daichi sighs and snuggles into Asahi. “You’re much comfier than Koushi.”

Suga shouts, a noise of protest filling the room. “Set up your own futon, then!” they yell, tossing it at Daichi.

Asahi laughs as Daichi groans, and it feels like tugging on an old, well-worn sweatshirt, having the two of them back in his bedroom. It’s not long before they’re settled under the blankets together. Suga insists on making Asahi take the middle. Daichi throws his arm across Asahi’s stomach; Suga lays their head on his shoulder. Their weight is comforting, grounding in a way he’s desperately needed.

It’s the lightest he’s felt in a long time.


	6. 16. "I can explain" Bokuto/Asahi, rated T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto/Asahi. Manga spoilers so slight you probably won't know they're manga spoilers unless you know they're manga spoilers. Rated T for shenanigans.

Asahi’s had a long week. 

With fashion week coming up, deadlines have loomed over him, dogging his step and stealing away his creativity. He’s barely been home before ten all week, and he misses Koutarou, and he’s  _ tired _ and he just wants to curl up with his husband and get some sleep.

When he lets himself into the apartment Friday afternoon, there’s music coming from the kitchen, along with a litany of swear words. Asahi removes his shoes and sets his work stuff down and braces himself.

There’s no way he could have braced himself enough for the sight that greets him.

Koutarou’s there, all right, standing in the middle of what can only be described as an explosion of some sort of batter. A sticky brown substance has, seemingly, left its intended home inside the blender and splattered itself all over the counter, the floor, the cabinets, the ceiling, and, of course, Koutarou himself. 

“Hi,” Asahi says, and despite everything, he finds a smile fighting its way to the surface.

“I can explain,” Koutarou says. 

Asahi laughs. Harder than he should, probably, all things considered. He feels a little bad as he watches Koutarou’s face fall. 

“I was trying to make you a cake—I know you’ve had a shitty week at work, and there were fresh strawberries at the market when I stopped to pick up meat for dinner, and I know how much you love strawberries, and I just wanted to make tonight special because you’re so tired, and…”

Asahi unbuttons his shirt and loosens his tie. “It’s alright, love,” he says. He tosses both to the couch, takes off his socks, and rolls up his pants. “It’s us versus the mess, now.”

Koutarou brightens, just a little. That’s their thing, their motto. “It’s us versus fashion week,” Koutarou had said to him on Monday morning. “It’s us versus the laundry,” Asahi had said last weekend when the basket had been overflowing. 

“It’s us versus the world,” says the engraving on the ring on his finger.

“You’re gonna get your pants dirty,” Koutarou says.

Asahi grins. “You’re just saying that because you want me to take them off.”

“I would never!” Koutarou protests.

Asahi steps gingerly into the mess and wraps his arms around Koutarou. “This just means you can take them off yourself later.”

Koutarou grins as he leans into Asahi’s embrace. He smudges chocolate on Asahi’s nose when he presses their lips together. “Oh,  _ hell _ yeah.”

They work through the mess together. Asahi scrubs the high parts while Koutarou scrubs the low parts, and they meet in the middle. The batter is ruined, but the strawberries are saved, having not yet been added into the mixture. 

Koutarou feeds them to Asahi in bed. Neither of them are wearing any pants.


	7. 2. "Close the door" Asahi & Yachi, rated T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asahi & Yachi, could be considered pre-relationship or just platonic. Does it count as manga spoilers if I read the manga, went "nope" and determined my own Nationals ending? T for shenanigans. Huge thanks to Jess for helping me plan those.

“Close the door!” Yachi urges as Asahi throws himself into the closet behind her.

Asahi shuts it behind himself, and the two of them collapse into laughter. They’d sprinted full out from classes to make sure they were the first to the gym for practice. With Nationals over and shiny bronze medals around their necks, they’re taking a short break from “serious” practice and enjoying the last of their seniors’ time with the team. They’re still playing, of course, because that’s who they are as people, but it’s the perfect time for Asahi to get revenge.

It had been months ago that Noya, Suga, and Tanaka had pelted him with water balloons, but it had been a frigid winter day and he’d had to jog back home in his wet clothes. They claimed it was penance for the month of practice he’d missed; Asahi had been sure they’d done it just to see the way his face contorted when the first balloon hit him and freezing water burst all over him.

The thought of getting back at them has been at the back of his mind ever since. Yachi had been an unlikely conspirator, but he’s finding, as he gets to know her more, that she has a mischievous streak under all that blushing and stammering. He suspects it will help her keep the team in line the next few years, and at the moment, it’s serving well for their plan (really more hers than his).

“We should have about five minutes before Hinata-kun and Kageyama-kun get here,” she says, a little breathless but grinning. “We should be able to get most of them nice and slick before then.”

She pulls a bottle out of her pocket. Asahi doesn’t read the label, but he knows well enough what it is. He goes pink everywhere and specifically doesn’t look at her.

“Where...did you…”

“Borrowed it from my mom’s drawer,” says Yachi, and even in the half-lit closet he can see that there’s a blush dusting her cheeks. She sets her jaw, determined. “Let’s go.”

She uncaps the bottle of lube and drizzles it over the cart of balls. Asahi begins to rub the substance over each of the balls in turn, making sure they’re nice and slick. Once she’s done pouring it from the bottle, Yachi jumps in and helps. Their hands brush as they both go for the same ball at the same time. Asahi’s certain his face is on fire.

“Sorry,” they say at the same time.

He catches her eye, and even though she’s embarrassed, just as much as he is, there’s still something sweet and soft about the way she smiles at him.

He turns back to his task, reaching further down into the cart and making sure they’re all well lubricated. Yachi begins to laugh again, and then Asahi joins in, and soon their giggles fill the little closet as they go about their task.

“Okay!” Yachi says, stepping back from the cart. “I thought ahead and brought a towel so we don’t get it on the door handle.” She offers it to him.

“Good thinking,” he compliments, taking it from her, and she bites her lip as she shoves the lube back into her bag.

“Now, go wash your hands and get changed!” she says. She all but pushes him out the closet, and he turns to throw her one last smile before he jogs off to the club room.

\---

Suga grills him a bit for being late, but he shakes it off easily enough with the excuse of talking to a teacher. By the time the third years arrive to the gym, the rest of the team is already stretching. The cart hasn’t emerged yet, and Yachi is relaxing against the closet, chatting with Shimizu and keeping anyone from pulling it out early. Good.

Asahi makes sure he gets assigned to Kageyama’s team, and by some stroke of luck, Suga, Noya, and Tanaka all end up on the other side of the net from him. Yachi brings out the cart and pushes it over to the edge of the court, beside where Suga is standing. He’s their starting server.

“Here you go, Suga-san!” Yachi says brightly. 

“Thank you, Yacchan,” he answers.

He reaches for a ball.

Asahi will never forget the way Suga’s face looks when he touches that first lubed-up volleyball. A mix of delight and disgust cross his features, and he looks up at the rest of the team.

“Why is this wet...and kind of sticky?”

“Wet and sticky?” Noya repeats. He goes over to investigate and grabs a ball with both hands. “Oh! Ryuu, catch!”

Noya throws a ball at Tanaka, which collides with his arm. Tanaka’s face is momentarily surprised, and then grossed out, and then outraged.

“Noyaaaaaaa!”

Tanaka goes to tackle Noya to the ground, and it’s over from there. Noya runs around the gym, pelting everyone with the lubed volleyballs. Tanaka gets over his initial anger and joins in the game, and practice devolves into a deranged game of dodgeball as the twelve boys shout and try to hit each other. When Ukai arrives, twenty minutes into the chaos, all twelve of them are covered in lube and red-faced from exertion.

“Should I even ask?” he questions, folding his arms across his chest.

“I bet it was the basketball team!” Noya shouts. “We’ll have to plan something even more epic to get back at them!”

“That sounds like a terrible idea,” Ennoshita pipes up, and there’s a burst of chatter as they try to decide if and how to prank the basketball club.

Asahi meets Yachi’s eyes across the gym. Her eyes sparkle with their shared secret as she smiles at him.

Asahi wonders if he should try to pull pranks more often.


	8. 47. "Why are you whispering?" Bokuto/Akaashi, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto/Akaashi. I have once again ignored canon. Rated G.

The thing about Bokuto Koutarou is that he has a knack for taking any ordinary thing and making it extraordinary. Getting caught up in his orbit is very much like being pulled into a black hole, except instead of getting sucked away into nothingness, objects are spat back out looking shinier and more incredible than they did before they encountered him.

Take Akaashi Keiji, for example. Akaashi was a regular boy who liked volleyball until he met Bokuto, and now he’s a Nationals-level setter being scouted for the pros, if that’s what he wants to do after high school.

“I’m just saying you could if you wanted to,” Bokuto says to him over breakfast one weekend. He considers Akaashi with his huge eyes. “We could play together again. I bet I could get Coach to scout you.”

“I don’t want to play professional volleyball, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi reminds him for not the first time, and probably not the last, either. “But I’ll play with you whenever you’re free.”

Bokuto smiles, and it makes Akaashi’s heart speed up the way it always does. “You’ll always be my favorite setter. You know that, right?”

Akaashi lets his guard down just enough to return his smile, if perhaps at a fraction of the wattage. “Of course.”

“You know, you’re so smart, I bet you could do just about anything you wanted to do, Akaashi,” Bokuto says. He purses his lips thoughtfully. “You could be the Prime Minister someday.”

“I suppose so,” Akaashi returns.

Bokuto tilts his head. “Do you want to be the Prime Minister, Akaashi?”

Akaashi takes a sip of his coffee. “I don’t want to be the Prime Minister, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto pays for breakfast for both of them, over Akaashi’s protests, and they walk off their eggs and rice in the local park. Bokuto pulls up that Pokemon catching app on his phone that Akaashi had only downloaded at Bokuto’s repeated request. 

“Oh! There’s a Snorlax on the path up ahead!” Bokuto shouts. Akaashi is still busy exiting out of the notifications that have piled up on the app in his extended absence from it. “Come on!”

He takes Akaashi’s hand and tugs them toward the promised Snorlax. Akaashi’s distracted from not knowing what a Snorlax is by Bokuto’s tight grip around his fingers and the warmth of his grasp. 

As they approach a fountain in the middle of the park, Bokuto slows down, and his voice drops to a murmur. “It’s gonna take all my Ultra balls to catch him,” he whines quietly.

Akaashi looks up from his screen and eyes Bokuto. “Why are you whispering?”

“Because if I sneak up on him, I’ll have a better chance of catching him!” He puts a finger to his lips before his gaze drops back to the screen and he begins to flick black and yellow balls at a large, bear-like creature on his screen.

Akaashi, somehow, catches the one on his phone in one throw. Bokuto gets down to two Ultra balls and lets out a quiet groan.

“I need your luck!” he says, a determined frown on his face. He looks up at Akaashi. “Quick, kiss me!”

“W-what, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi stammers.

“Kiss me! For good luck!” He throws another ball at the animated creature. It shakes once, twice, and pops back out. “This is my last ball! Please, Akaashi!”

Akaashi’s heart jumps up into his throat. Bokuto’s pleading eyes, the hopeful look on his face, it’s all too much to bear. Before he can think too much about the way his heart might break at never getting to do this again, he leans in and presses his lips to Bokuto’s, just the briefest contact, before pulling away.

Bokuto grins like he’s already caught his prize. He touches his fingers to his lips. “Akaashi.”

“Catch the Snorlax,” Akaashi urges him, a blush spreading over his face.

Bokuto looks back to the screen and throws his last Ultra ball. One shake. Two shakes.

Caught.

“AKAASHI!” Bokuto shouts. He throws his arms around Akaashi and hoists him into the air like they’ve won Nationals again. “My very own good luck charm!”

“Please put me down, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, distinctly aware of the way people around them are staring.

Bokuto complies, but he’s still very much in Akaashi’s personal space. “We did it,” he says, peering into Akaashi’s eyes.

“You did it,” Akaashi corrects faintly.

Bokuto lights up. They’re so close their noses are nearly touching. “You know I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a really long time,” he says. “But I didn’t know if you wanted that, so I figured I’d ask, and then you did it, and now we’ve kissed.”

Akaashi smiles, because maybe he’s Bokuto’s lucky charm, but Bokuto is his, too. “We have, haven’t we?”

“Do you think we could do it again?”

“I’d like that very much.”

Bokuto surges forward, and Akaashi kisses him for real this time, all the breath going right out of his lungs as their lips meet. People are definitely staring now, but Akaashi can’t find it in him to care.

When they pull apart, Bokuto’s smile is bright enough to be seen from space. “We can keep doing that, right?”

“Maybe not always in public, but yes, Bokuto-san. Koutarou.”

Bokuto beams even brighter. “Keiji. You’re extraordinary, Keiji.” 

Akaashi shakes his head and leans his forehead against Bokuto’s. The boy whose arms are around his waist is the most extraordinary man he’s ever met, and Akaashi is so caught up in his orbit that he can’t help but shine, too.


	9. 33. "Prove it" Asahi/Suga, rated G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asahi/Suga, canon compliant for once. G rated.  
> Suga is nb this chapter.

“I never thought it was your fault, but I guess I wasn’t surprised when you left,” Suga admits. It’s a sore topic, but the conversation is long overdue. Suga’s words are softened by their soothing voice. They’ve been sitting together in the park between their houses for hours, and now it’s devoid of people except for the two of them. “I wanted you to come back, obviously. But you’re, you know, you.”

Asahi squints. “What does that mean?”

“You’re...kind of a scaredy cat, Asahi,” Suga says. They touch his thigh, and he burns beneath their hand. “It’s not a bad thing!”

“Scaredy cat,” Asahi repeats. 

“You know.” Suga makes a sweeping gesture with their hands. “Afraid of everything.”

“I’m not—I’m not afraid of  _ everything _ ,” Asahi says, frowning with it.

“You kind of are,” Suga says. They shrug. “It’s not a big deal. It’s endearing, really. You should protect that glass heart.”

Asahi’s anxiety rises in him, but it settles some when he sees the grin on Suga’s face. The heavier conversation is done, then, and they’re just two friends on a park bench. “I’m not a scaredy cat.”

Suga laughs. “Prove it, then.”

Asahi’s frown deepens. “What?”

“Prove it,” Suga repeats. “Show me that you’re not afraid of everything. Do something brave, right now.”

“I can’t just do it on command!” Asahi squawks.

Suga’s laughter rises above them, high and clear through the chilly air. “Sure you can. You can be brave about anything at all. Go climb a tree all the way to the top. Prank call someone. Prank call  _ Daichi. _ ”

“I’m not gonna do that,” Asahi says, shuddering as he imagines Daichi’s face. “But that’s not because I’m not brave, it’s because I’m not stupid.”

“Fair enough. But you still haven’t proven it to me.”

“Give me a minute to think!” 

Suga grins. “Bet you can’t do it.”

“Just shut up for a minute, would you?” Asahi says, more irritation leaking into his voice than he really feels. Suga doesn’t seem to mind as they bring their legs up under them on the bench. 

The sunset is really beautiful tonight, purples and pinks and blues and yellows all melding together to create a watercolor painting across the sky. The rays of it illuminate Suga’s skin, and Asahi contemplates that Suga would probably look radiant in every light, but they look especially radiant like this, on a park bench in their volleyball jacket and face contorted with laughter.

“What if...I tell you a secret?” Asahi asks, each word carefully dropping from his mouth.

Suga raises an eyebrow. “It would have to be a really good secret. Something you’ve never told anyone before. Something that might change your life.”

Asahi’s lips twitch with the need to smile. “I might have a secret like that.”

“Then I think that might count,” Suga says. 

“Is it still brave if I whisper it?” Asahi asks.

Suga’s lips scrunch over to one side of their face, amusement and disapproval rolled into one. “It takes away from it a little bit, but you get a pass this time. You can whisper it if you need to.”

“So generous,” Asahi murmurs, mostly joking, but Suga’s mouth rearranges into a smile again.

“Well?”

Asahi takes a deep breath and turns his body toward Suga. He leans forward until his lips just brush the outer shell of Suga’s ear, and it might be that the contact causes Suga to shiver, or it might be a particularly ill-timed breeze. Asahi can’t say. 

Asahi’s hands are trembling. He opens and closes his mouth several times, and then Suga reaches over and takes Asahi’s hands in their own. They turn to meet Asahi’s eyes.

“You don’t have to do this,” they say, their voice hushed. “I was just teasing you, you know. I know you can be brave when you need to be.”

“Suga…” Asahi says. He closes his eyes; Suga’s fingers squeeze his wrists.

“Asahi?”

Asahi opens his mouth, and his secret comes tumbling out in a rush of breath. “I like you.”

Suga blinks, their fingers stiffening in their hold. They don’t answer, and they don’t meet his eyes, and Asahi’s stomach twists and turns itself into knots.

“It’s okay,” he says quickly, and he wishes he could keep the disappointment out of his voice. “It’s alright, Suga. I shouldn’t have told you, I’m sorry—”

Suga cuts him off by surging forward and kissing him. Asahi makes a noise of surprise as Suga’s teeth clack against his, and then catch his lip just a little too hard, and Suga moves away with wide eyes.

“Suga?” Asahi questions.

Suga laughs breathlessly. “Turns out you’re a lot braver than I am, Asahi. I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

“Oh.” Asahi’s certain he’s blushing, but can’t quite place why. He likes Suga, Suga likes him, there’s no reason for him to be embarrassed. Suga reaches up and brushes their thumb along his cheekbone.

“You’re cute when you blush,” Suga says. “It’s part of why I tease you so much.”

“Oh,” Asahi says again, and true to his nature, more blood rushes to his face.

“Secret for a secret.” Suga’s hand drops back into their lap. “Now we’re even.”

They look at each other for a moment, the last rays of sunlight draping them in gold, and then Suga begins to laugh, and Asahi isn’t sure why they’re laughing but he can’t stop himself from joining in. Suga leans into him, their forehead against his shoulder, and they’re both shaking with laughter, and Asahi touches his hand to the side of Suga’s face.

“Hey, Suga?” he says.

Suga’s bright eyes look up at him. “Yeah?”

“Do you think...you could kiss me again?” Asahi bites his lip. “I wasn’t quite ready last time, but I think I can do better than that.”

Suga’s answering smile will be burned into Asahi’s memory forever. “I bet you can’t.”

Asahi huffs out another laugh. “You’re on.”


	10. 38. "You've thought about this, haven't you?" Bokuto/Kuroo, rated E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto/Kuroo, rated E for explicitly described sex.

“Go, go,  _ go! _ ” Kuroo urges, pushing Bokuto down the hall. Behind them, Daichi’s shouting grows louder as he curses them and the latest prank they’ve pulled (replaced all his boxers with ladies’ underwear). Bokuto cackles as he runs, Daichi’s indignant roaring only spurring him on.

“Quick, quick, supply closet!” Kuroo directs. Bokuto screeches to a halt and throws himself throw the wooden door, and Kuroo squeezes himself in alongside Bokuto. There’s next to no room for one person among the cleaning supplies and old mops, much less two, and Kuroo has to press his body fully against Bokuto’s to make it work. He closes the door as they catch their breath.

“Shh,” Kuroo says, putting his finger against Bokuto’s lips just in time to stop him from giggling. “We’re hiding. If he hears you, he’ll find us.”

Bokuto nods solemnly, although he’s still smiling, and Kuroo drops his hand to his side. He presses his ear against the door and listens for the telltale sign of Daichi in the hallway.

“Can you scoot back any?” Bokuto whispers, and he’s a terrible whisperer, so Kuroo glares at him. 

“No!” he hisses. “Be quiet!”

Bokuto shuffles, predictably uncomfortable. He’s muscular and built and jammed awkwardly against a shelf of bleach. When he shifts, he must knock a broom handle into Kuroo’s leg.

“Ow, Bo, hold still,” Kuroo says, and he goes to move it back and encounters...not a broom handle. 

Kuroo decidedly doesn’t look at Bokuto’s face. “Oh.”

“Sorry,” Bokuto says, sounding a little miserable.

“It’s fine,” Kuroo answers, except it’s not because it’s  _ there _ and pressing into his leg and there’s absolutely nowhere for either of them to go. He’s seen Bokuto’s dick before—hazards of sharing locker rooms and bathrooms for years—but he’s never felt it. Bokuto’s hung when he’s not hard, and as his erection grows so does his cock. It must be awful, pressed against his jeans like that.

Kuroo shifts, just a little, and Bokuto’s breath catches in his throat.

“Sorry,” he says after an extended silence.

Kuroo considers his options. They’re going to be stuck in this closet until Daichi’s next class, which isn’t for at least an hour. He’s going to have Bokuto’s dick pressed against him for an  _ hour _ . It’s going to be awful for both of them. Or…

Kuroo shifts again, deliberate this time, his thigh digging into Bokuto. Bokuto straight up whines, and Kuroo has to clap his hand over Bokuto’s mouth.

“I could...do something about that,” Kuroo offers quietly. He does his best to convey a serious tone. “If you wanted to.”

Kuroo’s eyes have adjusted to the dark just enough to see the way Bokuto’s pupils are blown. He nods vigorously. 

“I’m keeping my hand here,” Kuroo says, but with the one not keeping Bokuto quiet he pops the button on Bokuto’s jeans. It’s awkward to free Bo’s erection with one hand and so little space, but he manages it. He licks his hand, conscious of the way Bokuto is watching him, and wraps it around Bokuto’s cock.

Bokuto sags just a little as Kuroo begins to stroke him. He’s thick and uncut and feels incredible in Kuroo’s hand. He has to keep his movements shallow, given their position and space, but Bokuto’s eyes flutter shut anyway and he does his best to thrust himself into Kuroo’s grasp.

“You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?” Kuroo asks. He stops stroking and runs his thumb over Bokuto’s slit, noting the generous amount of pre-come leaking from it. Bokuto’s eyes open wide. “You’ve thought about me getting you off before, huh? Maybe not quite like this, but you’ve thought about my hands?”

Bokuto nods. He’s beginning to look like he’s losing any composure he might have had left, and Kuroo understands the feeling. He strokes him again, combining the motion with silky words spoken against Bokuto’s ear as he leans in. “Not just my hands either, is it? Have you thought about my mouth?”

Bokuto’s hips jerk forward and he whines again, higher pitched.

“Shh, baby, I’ve got you,” Kuroo says. “I bet you’ve thought about my mouth. I bet you’ve thought about me on my knees for you, haven’t you? You want to see me choke on your cock, Bokuto?”

“Kuroo,” Bokuto breathes against his hand. “Kuroo, Kuroo,  _ please _ .”

“I’d like that,” Kuroo says. Bokuto’s eyes are squeezed tight; one of his hands grasps Kuroo’s shirt desperately. “I want to suck you so bad. But it’d be even better if I could fuck you, wouldn’t it? Turn you around right here and fuck your ass so hard the shelves shake.”

Bokuto is gasping, and Kuroo lets his hand fall, chancing that Bokuto’s too far gone to speak now. His teeth graze the shell of Bokuto’s ear.

“Would you bend over for me, I wonder?” he whispers. “Spread your legs nice and wide so I can fuck you like the good boy you are, Koutarou?”

Bokuto half-collapses as he comes, spurting hot all over Kuroo’s hand and shirt. Kuroo strokes him until he’s shaking with oversensitivity.

“What the fuck,” he manages weakly, resting his head against Kuroo’s shoulder. “How did you…”

Kuroo chuckles quietly. “Your ego’s big enough that the praise kink doesn’t exactly surprise me, Bo.”

Bokuto frowns as he looks up. “I mean...how did you know I wanted you?”

Kuroo bites his lip. “I didn’t. I just hoped.”

Bokuto’s eyes close before he heaves a sigh and leans back up against the shelves. 

“Thanks for your help,” he says. “Sorry about all that.”

“Sorry?” Kuroo questions. He lifts Bokuto’s chin with his finger. “Did you hear me when I said ‘hoped?’ I was only able to list all those fantasies because they’re ones I have, too, idiot.”

Bokuto blinks, and then a small smile breaks over his face.

“When we get back to the room, we should work on that last one you mentioned,” he says. “If you really want.”

Kuroo smiles. “Fuck yeah, I do.”


	11. 32. "You could have died" Kageyama/Kenma/(Hinata), G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technically this is Kageyama/Kenma/Hinata, but Hinata doesn't actually make an appearance here. No warnings. G rated.

Tobio doesn’t know the first thing about video games.

His boyfriends are both very into them, he knows that much, but he can’t tell which console in their living room is the Xbox and which is the Playstation for the life of him. It’s never bothered him too much. Shouyou and Kenma have always had more in common with each other than either of them has in common with him, but they draw him in anyway. Tobio can, on very rare occasions, be coerced into playing Mario Party, but he’s usually content to just watch the two of them as they play.

Shouyou is home with his family for the weekend, and Tobio feels his absence keenly in the quiet of the apartment. He supposes Kenma must be feeling it, too, because he’s playing a game on the television screen with the volume on, and he always plays on mute. Tobio has been sitting at the kitchen table most of the afternoon, catching up on homework, but his back is protesting his prolonged stay in the uncomfortable chair. He stretches it slowly as he stands and makes his way over to the couch.

“What are you playing?” he asks.

Kenma doesn’t take his eyes away from the screen. “Super Mario Bros. 2.”

Tobio isn’t sure why he asked. The title of the game doesn’t help him know anything about what’s supposed to be happening. Kenma appears to be doing well, if the lazy way he’s reclining on the couch is anything to go by. 

Shouyou is usually the one to instigate physical contact between the three of them, and he’s reminded of that as he looks over at Kenma. He wants Kenma to lay against him as he plays, wants his solid weight and warmth pressed into him, but he doesn’t quite know how to ask. 

“Is something wrong?” Kenma asks, his eyes flickering away from the screen for just a moment to glance over at Tobio.

Tobio shakes his head firmly before remembering Kenma isn’t looking. “No, no. I’m alright.”

Kenma chuckles quietly. “That’s not very convincing, you know.”

“I think my back’s just sore from hunching over my notes.”

“Tobio,” Kenma says. “Please?”

Tobio exhales, too noisy for the quiet atmosphere. “Shouyou usually starts all the cuddling.”

Without hitting pause, Kenma leans over and kisses him, soft and slow. The sound of cheerful music on the screen rings in Tobio’s ears as Kenma’s mouth moves against his own.

Kenma offers him a smile when he pulls away, and then he casts his eyes down and away and back to the television, where his character narrowly avoids being run into by a colorful turtle.

“You could have died,” Tobio says, his eyebrows furrowing.

Kenma laughs softly as the character on the screen progresses toward the end of the level. “Death by Koopa Troopa is hardly the worst thing that could happen to me.” The little plumber—Shouyou had spent an entire hour once lecturing him on the many professions Mario has had over the years, but he knows his usual profession is plumber—makes a last leap onto the top of a pole, which he slides down while a flag is raised. Kenma looks up at him with sleepy eyes and a tiny smile.

“And if I had died, it was worth it to see you smile. Open your legs and I’ll come lay with you.”

Tobio does as he’s told, and Kenma snuggles into him, his back against Tobio’s chest. Tobio rests his chin on Kenma’s head.

“Better?” Kenma prompts.

Tobio hums softly as the next level loads onto the screen. He wraps his arms around Kenma’s waist, sticking his hands into his hoodie pocket, and Kenma rests his head against Tobio’s collarbone for a moment.

“We should both get better at asking for what we want when Shouyou isn’t around,” he says thoughtfully. “Will you kiss me, Tobio?”

Tobio obliges, lowering his head to catch Kenma’s lips with his own. On the screen, the happy music turns sad, and without looking he’d guess Mario really did get the Koopa Troopa treatment this time. But Kenma doesn’t seem to mind, his hand snaking up to touch Tobio’s cheek. 

“Much better,” Tobio says, and Kenma kisses him again.


	12. 13. "I thought you were dead" Bokuto/Asahi, M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto/Asahi with a side of Kuroo/Akaashi. This chapter is an apocalyptic AU, and while I don't go into details of what happened, it may still be difficult to deal with. Proceed with caution. M rated.

The pain shooting through Asahi’s leg is blinding. It’s nearly enough to cause him to stop his incessant march home, but he knows that if he stops, he won’t be able to start again. And he’s only two miles, maybe, from home. From Koutarou. He has to keep going.

“Distract yourself,” he murmurs to himself. A quick sweeping of his eyes around the area affirms he’s alone, and he lets a grunt pass through his lips. “Think of Koutarou.”

It’s not hard. When the world ended, he never thought he and Kou had a chance. But between the two of them, and Tetsurou and Keiji, they’ve made it four years so far. Every day is a battle and supplies get sparser all the time, but they’ve made it. They keep going.

“Keep going,” he says aloud. Think of Koutarou’s smile, never diminishing even when everything turns against them. Think of Koutarou’s hands, calloused from doing everything he possibly can to insure their survival. Think of Koutarou’s arms, of the way he never lets Asahi go in the night. Think of Koutarou.

It takes too long. The pain is neverending, pushing constantly at his fraying nerves. He stumbles, close to falling, many times. But he pushes on.

It’s just past dark when the dim outline of their tents comes into view. Keiji, his vision piercing the night, is the first one to see him.

“Koutarou,” he says, low and serious, and it’s so quiet that Asahi can hear him even from this distance.

“Tell me it’s him,” Koutarou says. The miserable tone in his voice pushes Asahi to walk even more quickly, as quickly as he can.

“It’s him. He needs help.”

Koutarou and Tetsurou are on him before he takes ten more steps. They catch him on either side, and finally he’s able to let go, to take the weight off.

“Batteries are in my bag,” Asahi says.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Tetsurou shoot Koutarou a look. “You’ve been gone three days, Asahi,” he says quietly.

“Ran into some trouble.” He’ll spare the details for now, maybe tell them later when he’s got more energy.

Koutarou is silent as they approach the camp. They set Asahi down on the chair and Asahi throws his head back, finally letting tears flow down his face. Koutarou kneels down, rolls up his pant leg, and they all get their first good look at Asahi’s injury: a long, severe gash in his calf. 

“This is infected, Asahi,” Keiji says.

“Happened a few days ago.”

“Why didn’t you come back?” Koutarou says sharply, lifting his eyes to Asahi.

Tension crackles between them, and then the distant howl of a wolf has all four of them snapping their heads to the west. There’s nothing to follow, and a sigh of relief passes between them.

“I’ll get the meds,” Keiji says.

He tugs at Tetsurou’s wrist, and they both disappear in search of supplies. Asahi looks down at Koutarou, who won’t meet his eyes as he carefully uses a single gauze pad to wipe away dirt and grime from the wound.

“I’m sorry,” Asahi says. “But we needed the batteries.”

“Not more than we need you!” Koutarou snaps. 

Asahi swallows. “Kou…”

“I thought you were dead!” Koutarou half-shouts. He seems to realize how loudly he’s speaking and bites his lip. “I thought you weren’t coming home, Asahi, I—”

“I’m sorry,” Asahi says. He reaches down and pulls Koutarou’s hand away from his wound, winds their fingers together tightly. “I’m so sorry, Kou.”

“I was so scared,” Koutarou confesses.

Asahi opens his arms, and Koutarou falls into his embrace. Asahi leans down and uses the last of his strength to hold Koutarou tight, trying to reassure him with his solidity the way Koutarou always reassures him. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” Koutarou says after a bit. He sniffs and looks up at Asahi. “We go together or we don’t go at all.”

Asahi nods. “Together or not at all.”

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” Tetsurou says quietly. Asahi looks up with a wry smile. There’s no privacy anymore, not in such small living quarters. “We should get you cleaned up, Asahi.”

Koutarou holds Asahi’s hand as Tetsurou cares for Asahi’s leg. Keiji returns and forces food and painkillers down Asahi’s throat, meat that Tetsurou had managed to secure while Asahi was away. He hadn’t realized he was so hungry, but now that he’s finally off his feet he can appreciate the low rumble in his stomach and the exhaustion that threatens to overtake him.

“You’re not going anywhere for at least two weeks,” Tetsurou says after he’s finished wrapping Asahi’s leg. His eyes flicker up to Asahi. “And at least one of us is staying with you at all times. Got it?”

“Yes, doctor,” Asahi says. 

“Go sleep it off. We’ll take the first watch, Kou.”

“Thank you,” Koutarou says. 

He helps Asahi into the tent and lowers him onto the cot that serves as their bed. Finally, finally, Koutarou wraps his arms tightly around Asahi. Asahi’s relief is palpable, tears flowing from his eyes again.

“I love you, Koutarou,” he murmurs as he drifts off.

“I love you,” Koutarou returns, kissing Asahi’s shoulder. 

And for not the first time since the world ended, Asahi thinks they just might make it, after all. 


	13. 24. "You're trembling" Miyuki/Sawamura, G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miyuki/Sawamura, no warnings, G rated. Future fic.

Rain pounds against the windows of the apartment. Eijun looks up in frustration as lightning flashes across the sky. He’s antsy. It’s a simmering feeling under his skin, the desire to be running, to be outside, to be anywhere but stuck inside.

“Relax, Eijun,” Kazuya says from the kitchen, not even looking up.

“What do you mean, Miyuki Kazuya?” Eijun bites back, his ire automatically rearing its head at the closest victim.

“The storm will pass.” 

Kazuya really knows him too well. 

“It’s been raining for days,” Eijun answers, not quite able to help the whine that enters his voice. “I can’t even focus on my book, I’m so bored.”

“You can help me cook, if you like,” Kazuya says. When Eijun looks up, he’s furrowing his brows. “Scratch that. No, you can’t.”

“Kazuya!” Eijun protests. He leaps over the arm of the couch and runs into the kitchen. “Would you quit being awful to me?”

“Never,” Kazuya answers.

Eijun grumbles as he wraps his arms around Kazuya’s waist from behind. “I can help.”

Kazuya laughs, a soft laugh and not a terrible one. “This certainly isn’t helping.”

Eijun huffs. “It’s nice, though.”

“Mmhmm.” Kazuya sets down the knife he’d been chopping vegetables with and turns his face to kiss Eijun on the cheek. “Do you really want to help?”

“Yes, please,” Eijun says.

“Go get another knife, then. A small one, don’t come over here with the bread knife.”

“You think I don’t know the difference between a chopping knife and a bread knife, Miyuki Kazuya,” Eijun grumbles under his breath as he lets go of Kazuya. He crosses over to the other counter, and the lights flicker. Eijun freezes.

Kazuya has already turned. “It’s alright, Eijun. It’s just from the storm.”

Eijun takes a deep breath. “Right.” He selects his knife and goes back over to Kazuya. “So what am I doing?”

“Chop the scallions into little pieces,” Kazuya says as he turns around. He points with his knife at the vegetables before looking up with a mischievous grin. “Try not to mangle them.”

“I won’t mangle them!” Eijun answers, elbowing Kazuya. His tongue sticks out of the corner of his mouth as he begins his task, trying to make his pieces as even as possible. His grip falters when the lights flicker once more. Two more chops and the lights falter before plunging them into darkness altogether.

“Eijun,” Kazuya says.

“I’m here,” Eijun answers, setting his knife down. His voice shakes.

Kazuya closes the distance between them and wraps his arms around Eijun’s waist, pinning the small of his back against the counter and pressing their bodies together. “They’ll be back on soon,” Kazuya murmurs.

“I know that,” Eijun says. He’d complain about being babied, but truthfully the weight of Kazuya against him is grounding in a way he desperately needs. He’d never quite gotten over his fear of the dark. 

Kazuya had laughed when he’d first admitted it, the consequence of a truth or dare game back in their Seido days. There’d been “good-natured” teasing for a week or so until the team had all forgotten about it. But the first time the power went out, the result of a late summer heat wave, Eijun had been with Furuya and Kazuya in the latter’s room, and Eijun had nearly gone into a full panic attack. Kazuya and Furuya had been helpless as Eijun sobbed.

Kazuya had never teased him about it again.

Kazuya has learned, since then, the best ways to help Eijun calm down. Weight helps, like he’s doing now. Simple questions, yes or no. Distractions.

“You’re trembling,” Kazuya murmurs. Eijun nods. “Do you want to go to bed?” 

Eijun shakes his head. “Should be back soon. And then we can keep working on dinner.”

Kazuya nods. His hand rubs small circles into Eijun’s back. “It’s alright, Eijun. Thanks for helping with dinner, by the way. It’s nice to have help, even though you invaded my space.”

“I pay for half this apartment the same way you do,” Eijun answers, slightly breathless.

“I think you pay for the half that starts over there,” Kazuya says.

Eijun huffs a laugh. “I guess you’d like to sleep on the couch, then, since the bed’s in my half.”

“I’m a whole year older than you, Sawamura, you can’t kick your elders out like that.”

“Your body failing you already, old man?”

“Who are you calling old man?”

Eijun laughs quietly, tucking his head against Kazuya’s shoulder, and just as he goes for a response the lights come back.

“See?” Kazuya says. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Like you made the lights come back,” Eijun retorts, pinching the soft flesh of Kazuya’s hip underneath his shirt just to hear him squawk.

Eijun could push him away, insist that they go back to working on dinner, but it’s nice to have his boyfriend wrapped around him like this, and Kazuya doesn’t seem inclined to break their embrace. 

“You smell like scallions,” Kazuya says, nosing against Eijun’s neck.

“You smell like rotten trash, Miyuki Kazuya,” Eijun answers.

“That’s just mean.”

“You started it.”

Kazuya lifts Eijun’s chin with one finger, and they lock eyes. “You’re alright?”

Eijun nods. “Thank you, Kazuya.”

Kazuya leans in to briefly press their lips together. When he pulls away, he makes a fist and taps it lightly against Eijun’s chest.

“Let’s get back to it, partner. You’ve got veggies to chop.”


	14. 49. "I don't want to screw this up," Asahi/Noya/Tanaka, T

Asahi sets down the wooden spoon and looks out into the living room. Yuu and Ryuu are on either end of the couch. Ryuu has his beaten guitar in hand and Yuu is singing along to an old American rock song, one of the first Ryuu had learned to play on the instrument Asahi had brought home for him. Asahi feels his cheeks warm, more than they already had from the steam rising from dinner. Yuu catches him staring and stands up.

“Sing with me!” Yuu demands. He bounds out to the kitchen and drags Asahi back to the living room with him. Ryuu looks up at him with a smile.

“I don’t know the words,” Asahi says.

“You’ll pick them up,” Ryuu promises. “They’re easy.”

_ “Sing with me, sing for the year, sing for the laughter, sing for the tear!”  _ Yuu hasn’t let go of Asahi’s hands, and he twirls around, lifting Asahi’s arm into the air. Asahi laughs. 

_ “Sing with me if it’s just for today, maybe tomorrow the good Lord will take you away.” _

Ryuu goes into a little guitar solo. Yuu tugs Asahi close and sways them back and forth, his strength taking Asahi by surprise once again. Asahi finds himself dancing along.

_ “Sing with me, sing for the year, sing for the laughter, sing for the tear!” _

Yuu looks up at Asahi, raising his eyes expectantly. Asahi takes a deep breath and warbles out the next line.

_ “Sing with me if it’s just for today, maybe tomorrow the good Lord will take you away.” _

Ryuu and Yuu both cheer. Asahi finds himself a little breathless as Yuu takes back over. 

_ “Dream on, dream on, dream on, dream until your dreams come true!” _

“Wait,” Asahi says suddenly.

Ryuu mutes the guitar with the palm of his hand. Yuu reaches up and touches Asahi’s face.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his eyebrows scrunching in concern.

Asahi sits beside Ryuu. Yuu kneels on the floor beside him and takes both his hands.

“I just love you both so much,” Asahi says quietly. He’s never able to say these things while he actually looks at them. “This is the best thing I’ve ever had. This is the dream come true. I don’t want to screw this up.”

“You’re not going to screw this up,” Ryuu says. He sets the guitar aside and reaches over to put his hands on Yuu’s. “Asahi, we love you, too.”

“We love you so much, Asahi.” He stands and crawls into Asahi’s lap. Asahi huffs a watery laugh and wraps his arms around Yuu. “We’re in this together, right? If anything happens, we’ll work it out together.”

“Right. Okay.” Asahi wipes away the beginnings of tears from his eyes. Yuu kisses his cheek, and then Ryuu leans over and kisses him, too. 

And then the smoke alarm goes off.

“Shit!” Asahi swears, tossing Yuu off him and going out to the kitchen.

Dinner ends up being ruined, but Yuu orders takeout and Ryuu switches over to j-pop covers. Asahi laughs so much he forgets all about their destroyed meal by the end of the night.


	15. 34. "I might never get another chance to say this," Kuroo/Akaashi, T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> same universe as chapter 12, vague apocalyptic event described

Tetsurou is sprawled out on Keiji’s bed when the world ends.

Keiji’s at his desk and he’s the first one to notice the shaking. He lifts his eyes from his studying and looks outside; nothing’s wrong yet, but there’s an instinct in his gut.

“Kuroo-san,” he murmurs. “We need to get out of here.”

Tetsurou narrows his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

It’s then they hear the first explosion.

“We need to get out of here,” Keiji repeats. 

Later, they’ll come back to the ruins of Keiji’s apartment and scavenge the essentials they left behind at that moment. But when the shaking intensifies, Keiji grabs Tetsurou’s wrist and tugs him toward the door.

The next hours pass like minutes. Tetsurou will look back at this day and be so, so thankful he was with Keiji, because no one else is calm and collected the way Keiji is in the face of a crisis. They go to Koutarou’s apartment and collect him and Asahi. The earth shakes beneath them still. Koutarou’s crying, not knowing where the rest of his family is, and Asahi is the picture of shock. Keiji talks to them in a quiet voice. Tetsurou hears nothing he says, distracted by the skyline falling in the distance. The four of them find rentable bikes, and Keiji steals them away with no remorse. Then they seek sanctuary. 

By nightfall, they’ve left the city limits. Keiji says it’s safer to be away from tall structures that can’t take the damage, and no one else knows what to do. They find an empty house and break in.

“Where did you learn how to pick locks?” asks Koutarou. Asahi stands just behind him, his head against Koutarou’s shoulder as he looks down at a cell phone that hasn’t had service in hours.

“Some questions are better left unanswered,” says Keiji cryptically.

Tetsurou looks up at the stars. 

They end up crashing in the living room that night. The house will become their home base for several months, and they take the bedrooms eventually, but that night they’re all a little frightened that the owners might come home and discover them and a little worried that if they go to sleep they won’t wake up. Asahi and Koutarou drift off eventually, wound around each other on a sofa that doesn’t fit either of them. Keiji sits ramrod straight on the floor and stares at the door.

“You think we should keep watch?” Tetsurou asks, his voice hoarse from disuse. He can’t find anything to say.

“No,” Keiji says, but he doesn’t turn, either.

“I can stay up if you want to sleep.”

“I’m fine.”

Tetsurou sighs. Hours before he’d been laying on Keiji’s bed and thinking about how nice it would be to kiss him. It seems irrelevant now, except it’s the only thing he can think about. His brain’s an echo chamber.

“Are you scared?” Keiji asks.

Tetsurou looks back at him. He hasn’t moved at all, isn’t making any indication that he’s listening. But Tetsurou knows he is.

“Yeah. But I’m with you, so I know we’ll be okay.”

Keiji finally turns his head. There are bags under his eyes. He hadn’t slept in several days because he’d been worried about a paper he needed to write. “What makes you so sure?” he asks, his voice dropping to a whisper.

Tetsurou takes a deep breath. “Well, I might never get another chance to say this, so I might as well. You’re amazing, Keiji, and I think I’ve been half in love with you ever since we met.”

Keiji blinks once, his lids slow to raise back up once they’ve fallen down. A small smile creeps across his face. “Only half?” he questions.

“I had to make sure Koutarou wasn’t in love with you first,” Tetsurou says, a breathless chuckle passing his lips.

Keiji reaches out his hand, and Tetsurou takes it in his own, grasping it tightly. 

“Sorry it took an apocalypse for me to admit it.”

Keiji rubs his thumb along the back of Tetsurou’s hand. “I’m sorry it took an apocalypse for me to accept.”

Tetsurou looks down at their joined hands and feels a wave of exhaustion hit him. As if on cue, Keiji yawns. 

“We should sleep,” Tetsurou says. “Especially you.”

Keiji looks back at the door one more time and nods firmly. “Alright,” he says, letting himself slump. He leans into Tetsurou, and they lay down together. Tetsurou yanks a blanket from the pile atop Koutarou. “But not too long.”

Tetsurou wraps his arms around Keiji’s waist. “Not too long,” he agrees.


	16. 1. "It's really not that complicated," Kageyama/Kenma/Hinata

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> canon compliant more or less  
> i just wanted kageyama to get some sleep and some cuddles honestly

Tobio yawns widely and wraps the blanket more tightly around himself. According to the clock blinking on the kitchen counter, it’s just past two in the morning, and Shouyou and Kenma don’t look like they’re going to be pausing their video game tournament anytime soon. They’d played every course of Mario Kart (Kenma had won soundly every round except Rainbow Road, in which Shouyou pulled a surprising last minute upset) and are currently working their way through Super Mario Galaxy. Or Sunshine. Or something. Tobio has been a quiet observer to it all, unwilling to give up the time with his partners but unmotivated to join in their gaming. Now he’s exhausted, and while none of them have anywhere to be tomorrow (hence the prolonged tournament), he’d really rather be in bed right now.

The character controlled by Shouyou goes spiralling off a cliff, only to be summoned back to Kenma’s side a moment later. Tobio wonders if there’s some sort of metaphor in that particular bit of gameplay, like Shouyou is magnetically attracted to Kenma, or vice versa. He wonders where he fits into that narrative. He remembers he’s not very good at metaphors.

When he yawns again, a grumble passing through his throat as he does, Kenma hits the pause button and turns his head to look at him. A moment later, Shouyou does the same.

“You look like a turtle,” Shouyou says with a laugh.

“‘M cold,” Tobio protests. He realizes only his nose is poking out of the blanket. 

Kenma stands, stretching his arms above his head and revealing a line of skin just above his waistband. He’s long given up playing volleyball, but he’s still in excellent shape considering how much time he spends in front of a screen. He settles on the far end of the couch and lifts his arm up, looking at Tobio expectantly. 

“What?” Tobio says.

Kenma smiles, sleepy and slow and sweet. “It’s really not that complicated,” he says. 

“Go lay against Kenma, and I’ll sit on this end and you can tuck your toes under my thighs how you like,” Shouyou says. “Then you’ll be nice and warm.”

“If you can sit still long enough,” Tobio says.

Kenma nods like that was the plan all along. Tobio unearths himself from the fleece and moves into Kenma’s embrace. Kenma settles with an arm around Tobio’s middle. Shouyou, who radiates heat at all times, lets Tobio shove his feet beneath his leg. It shouldn’t be comfortable, because he’s a hundred eighty eight centimeters and barely fits on this couch by himself, but it is. 

He wonders about the magnetism of the characters in the game, and the magnetism of their bodies to each other, and sometimes fate is just a slow, inevitable pull toward the ones you can’t live without.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Tobio warns as Kenma starts the game again. “We should go to bed at some point.”

“We’ll wake you when we do,” Kenma promises. He drops a kiss to the crown of Tobio’s head without looking away from the screen. “Good night, Tobio.”

“Love you,” Shouyou says.

Tobio lets his eyes droop closed. The sound of fleeting victory plays in 16 bits from the television set.

“I love you, too.”


End file.
